


Mama's

by 100percentfluffster



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Stiles Stilinski, Angst? Sort of, Appearances from some others, BAMF Stiles, Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Character Study of the Hales, Fluff, Good Jackson Whittemore, Good Peter, Hale Pack remade, Jackson is basically a Hale, Little bit of Allison, Little bit of Scott, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Outside Character View, Peter Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Peter and Derek are Family, Peter and Derek centric, So I gave it to them, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles is kick ass, The Hales Deserve Better, The Hales are Intimidating AF to everyone, though he's minimal in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 19:16:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18212483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100percentfluffster/pseuds/100percentfluffster
Summary: Mama’s bar had been around for nearly two decades. In those twenty years she’d seen a lot of weird shit. In a bar in the middle of nowhere that catered extensively to the supernatural community, it was expected for weird things to happen. She’d seen creatures of every kind pass through, some of them pleasant and others terrifying. She’d seen bar brawls that ended in death and destruction, she’d seen alpha power transfers and pack turf wars. She’d helped her fair amount of strangers and dealt with an overzealous hunter ten years back. She was far from an easily intimidated person.But there was a shift in the air when the Hales walked into her bar on a Tuesday at the tail end of November.(Basically a story about how the Hales are family and how Stiles holds them all together.)





	Mama's

Mama’s bar had been around for nearly two decades. In those twenty years she’d seen a lot of weird shit. In a bar in the middle of nowhere that catered extensively to the supernatural community, it was expected for weird things to happen. She’d seen creatures of every kind pass through, some of them pleasant and others terrifying. She’d seen bar brawls that ended in death and destruction, she’d seen alpha power transfers and pack turf wars. She’d helped her fair amount of strangers and dealt with an overzealous hunter ten years back. She was far from an easily intimidated person. 

But there was a shift in the air when the Hales walked into her bar on a Tuesday at the tail end of November. Not that anyone knew who they were at that point, but the two of them were new and they held themselves like an alpha would. They smelled of wolf and the tangy odor of exhaustion. At the very edges of their scents was something like honey and lightning that made her nose twitch. Not an unpleasant smell but a unique one. 

For the next two weeks the Hales would come in each night and take the corner booth, the booth that gave the best view of the building at large. They watched and they waited, but for what no one seemed to know. They barely said more than two words to each other, and if they did it was generally an insult. They never talked to anyone besides placing their drink orders and Mama’s curiosity climbed. 

She learned their names during the third week when Peter approached the bar and requested a moment of her time. He’d smiled at her and leaned into the bar with an easy confidence that she usually would peg as alpha behavior, but she’d been watching the two wolves and neither of them acted like an alpha to each other. It was vexing, not knowing. 

“My nephew and I were wondering if you could do us a favor,” he said. His blue eyes seemed fixed to her face and she had no doubt that he was reading way more into her than she was able to read of him. 

“What kind of favor?” Mama asked. 

“We’ve found ourselves in a sort of temporary lack of address. We were hoping that we could have our mail sent here. I could pay you for your services, of course.” 

“Why not just have it sent to wherever you’re staying?” 

“I’d rather not have the scents muddled.” 

“Wouldn’t the mail service already have done that?” Mama asked. 

“The postal service will not be involved.” 

Mama paused and thought that through. “I won’t be no part of drug trafficking or anything else.” 

Peter seemed deeply amused by that and he grinned playfully, or what she thought was supposed to be playful but really just came across as terrifying, and replied, “Of course not. Just a friend sending a few things. Books and jackets and such.” 

Which is how she found herself finding a new package on her bar counter every Monday, no idea how it got there, and the entire thing reeking of lightning and honey and something deeper like rainwater and soil. Each package was labeled for Peter and Derek Hale. Each Monday they would show up a little earlier than normal and take the package to their booth where they would eagerly tear it open and pass the books within back and forth. 

She knew from previous experience of dropping their drinks off, that the margins of the books would be covered in handwritten notes. Sometimes a leather jacket would appear and Derek would immediately switch whatever he was wearing for it, and sometimes a v neck sweater would appear and Peter would growl happily and tug it on. Every item smelled of lighting and energy and every Monday the Hales would be a little less growly than normal. 

The rumors started after a couple months of their constant presence. Word got out of who they were. The Hales returned. The Hales reborn. The Hales rising from the ashes. 

It spelled trouble, but trouble never seemed to show its face. 

Two full months passed in peace. The Hales kept to themselves and everyone else kept away from the Hales. The Hales read their books, and would sometimes even laugh at whatever was inside them or trade remarks, and everyone pretended like they weren’t dying to know why the two wolves were there. People talked amongst themselves and debated which one must be alpha. They gossipped about why they were on the run; or at least, not back home where the fire had happened. 

Mama watched the two of them grow both relaxed and on edge. Like they were finally allowed to just catch their breath but also like they were about to go out of their minds with boredom. That tang of exhaustion slowly dissipated but a more pressing buzz seemed to settle over them. 

It was Peter who finally broke the pattern, and she couldn’t say she was surprised it was him. Peter stepped away from the booth and started to socialize. He had plenty of people eager to talk to him but no matter how long the conversation, no one ever learned anything about him. Not really. He could insult someone without them noticing for a good few minutes, he could goad someone into buying him a drink or a darts competition. He studied everyone with a cold gaze that was inescapable. He was a complete ass hole through and through, but no one knew why he was there. Or Derek. It was infuriating. 

Derek was slow to follow his uncle’s footsteps but he eventually allowed himself to be pulled into conversations with Mama or a few of the other patrons. Derek was quiet and growly but he seemed to genuinely not want to cause harm. He never spoke about the fire or family or anything, but he was happy to listen to gossip or speculate about literature. 

The two Hale men were opposites of each other. Peter moved slowly but talked fast. Derek spoke like each word was an effort but he stepped out of range of anyone’s touch before they even noticed. Peter was cutting but passionate. Derek was removed but kind. Peter was mischief. Derek was indifference. But both of them held a darkness around them. A wariness around the eyes that couldn’t be mistaken for anything but past pain and regrets. 

They were never out of sight and they were constantly checking in with the other. They tossed barbs at each other constantly but they’d stiffen up if someone else went too far with it. Peter would verbally eviscerate anyone who would try to bully Derek into talking more and Derek would stand silent and resolute behind his uncle if Peter managed to piss someone off too badly. They were a team, and everyone at Mama’s was baffled by it. 

But there was one thing everyone understood. The Hales were dangerous. It was in each of their movements, predatory and patient. Those two watched and waited in a way that spoke of near paranoia. The Hales were ready for whatever came their way. 

Three months in and Mama finally saw what they were capable of. 

It was a visiting pack, young and impulsive. The alpha was demanding and abrasive. Peter took an instant disliking to him. That part wasn’t surprising. The part where Peter stayed sequestered to his booth with his nephew was. She fully expected Peter to be flashing his shark smile and convincing the fools into a game of pool before he took all their money and insulted their ancestry. She fully expected to have to cool some tempers and tell Peter to beat it. Instead, Derek just gave Peter a hard look and the older man huffed and settled himself further into the vinyl and watched the pack’s every movement. Derek tried to read the most recent book that had come for them, but she couldn’t help but notice how those hazel eyes kept flicking up every thirty seconds to check in. 

Derek kept mumbling something about ‘good behavior’ to Peter, but the visiting pack for some reason took an interest in Derek especially. Perhaps because of the way he was so actively trying to not engage with them. 

The moment one of them put a hand on Derek however, Peter was out of his seat and up at arms. Derek sighed but followed suit and spent most of the fight keeping the five betas off of Peter and the alpha. As well as yelling seemingly helpful things at Peter like, “No killing, only maiming,” or “Don’t tear that sweater, he’ll be mad,” and other such things. It ended with Peter dragging his claws through the alpha’s stomach and the Hales kicking them out of the bar. The entire confrontation took no more than a few minutes and it was brutally effective. They fought like they were feral but with an iron-tight control. 

The fight had shocked the audience via their destructive potential but not necessarily surprised any of them. They all knew the Hales were dangerous. What really got the gossip train going was the fact that both Hales’ eyes had glowed bright blue. That put the betting pools about which one was alpha into chaos, all money returning to their owners with disappointment. 

Peter magnanimously paid the pack’s tab and the Hales retired for the evening, bickering amongst each other about Peter’s inability to end a fight without drawing blood. “The whole point of this is to lay low,” Derek said with a huff. 

“Not my fault they started a fight, nephew mine. I’m sure he would understand. A brawl is hardly real trouble,” Peter responded as he cleaned his claws off with a handkerchief. 

They came in the next night like nothing had happened and time moved on. 

Until the next Tuesday when a new wolf sauntered through the doors. He was young and attractive in an Ivy League sort of way. He held himself similar to the Hales but not quite as offensive. His gaze had immediately fallen on the corner booth and for just a short moment Mama wondered if this was the mighty Hale alpha, but she quickly dismissed that idea. This was a mere boy and he certainly wasn’t…  _ enough _ . The Hales wouldn’t be bowing before this boy. 

“Jackson,” Derek greeted with an almost smile and really Mama had only seen Derek even partially smile a couple of times, so that smile had come with startling ease. 

Jackson had smiled wide with the hints of a smirk around the edge, much like Peter, and settled himself into the booth with a sigh. They casually scented each other and the Hales made sure the boy sat between them, minor points of physical contact kept up at all times. It would seem they had missed their pack member. 

After a few minutes of growling and almost smiles Jackson finally spoke up, “Lydia told me she had a tickle in her throat last week. Wouldn’t be you two, would it?” 

Peter groaned theatrically and replied, “That girl is like one of those driveway flood lights that turns on at the slightest movement.” 

“It was nothing,” Derek said with a scowl. “Just a small tussle with a visiting pack.” 

Jackson chuckled and threw an arm over the back of the booth behind Derek as he looked at Peter, “And they left alive?” 

Mama startled for a moment because that wasn’t just a teasing jest. Jackson, at some level, was surprised there hadn’t been a death or numerous deaths. “She said just a tickle, right?” Peter replied with a smug smirk, his default expression. “We just kicked them out. We’re on our best behavior and everything.” Despite his callous words there seemed to be a small amount of worry present in Peter. Like perhaps he was expecting a dressing down, though she doubted it would be from Jackson. 

Jackson just held his hands up in surrender and said, “Hey, I’ve got my fair share of lectures about that myself. In fact, considering that I get to see Lydia once every week, I’d say I’d get all the lectures while you two get to drink and beat up idiotic wolves. Doesn’t seem fair.” 

“And how are they?” Peter asked leaning further into Jackson. Mama couldn’t deny that she was blatantly eavesdropping at this point, but she didn’t give a damn. She wouldn’t be the only one. The bar was suspiciously quiet as everyone tried their best to hear each word of the conversation without appearing like they were doing so. 

“Good. They’re good.” 

“But are they safe?” Derek questioned. 

Jackson gave a humorless smile, more like a grimace, and replied, “Safer than we could ever make them.” Peter looked down at the table with a scowl and Derek looked even more scowly than normal. 

Jackson didn’t stay for long, said he had to get back to cook dinner. “They let me send the food in for them. I don’t trust those people to feed them properly.” 

“Have you seen him?” Peter asked, and Mama thought he looked in pain. 

Jackson’s lips thin as he pressed them together and said, “No.” 

Derek sighed but his hand came down to clasp tightly against Peter’s shoulder, effectively boxing Jackson in between them. “It’ll all be fine. It’s temporary.” 

“And necessary,” Jackson added.

The conversation didn’t last much longer than that and Jackson left after a couple of beers. The Hales didn’t venture from their booth that night and they seemed oddly bereft. Mama figured they must be missing their apparently absent friends. 

Jackson started to stop by weekly after that and Mama noticed that his shirts sometimes also smelled of honeyed lightning but in the same vague sense that Derek and Peter did. It was stale and removed. 

Things settled back into normalcy. Jackson turned out to be fun if you ignored his sense of entitlement. He often bought rounds for the whole bar if Mama just ignored that he wasn’t quite old enough to legally drink. It was a good balance. 

But the Hales over the next six months got some strange visitors. A dark skinned woman with claw marks over her throat stopped by a couple times. She could drink anyone under the table and once dislocated a vampire’s shoulder in a friendly arm wrestling competition. 

A tall young man that smelled of human came along with Jackson one evening, and he spent a lot of time talking about computers and reminiscing about lacrosse with Jackson. Peter seemed bored of the entire thing, but he growled at a wolf who eyed the boy up too strongly. 

A young woman who bore a passing resemblance to Derek and was named Cora came. The two Hale wolves were very growly and protective of her but she bore it with just a roll of her eyes and a snarky retort. Mama couldn’t help but wonder if she was a Hale, but the girl was gone the next day so Mama didn’t get to ask. 

A hunter came one evening, late, just before the Hales would normally head back to their hotel or wherever they were staying. She smelled of wolfsbane and mountain ash and car oil. Several of the bar patrons stood up as soon as she stepped through the doorway but Derek gave a soft growl and Peter waved them back to their seats. Confused, they did as they were told and the hunter walked to the corner booth with sure confident steps. She was pretty and put together but with an alertness to her that fit with the Hales. 

“Peter, Derek,” she greeted with a nod as she dragged a chair over to the side of the booth. 

“Allison,” Derek returned her nod. 

“Argent,” Peter said, no nod from him but a welcoming wave of his hand and a very purposeful ignorance of the way the tension in the bar ratcheted up at the name. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” 

Allison smiled and it was close-lipped and tense. “Not pleasure, business.” 

Derek’s expression didn’t change but Mama noted that he didn’t look threatened just tense. Strange considering it was the Argent family that had supposedly set the Hale house on fire. Peter’s attention was caught by the hunter girl but he wasn’t baring his teeth just smirking. 

Allison took Derek’s beer without hesitation and the wolves didn’t bat an eyelash. It seemed perfectly natural between them, like it was something they were used to. Allison slumped a little further into the table before she spoke a moment later. “I’ve got a huge fucking mess to clean up.” She took another swallow of the beer as Peter looked on with apparent amusement. “You heard of the Boutrin family?” 

Derek snarled and Peter grimaced and replied, “Who hasn’t?” There were murmurs around the bar as well. The Boutrin family was a bloodthirsty hunter family that had plagued the supernatural world for decades.  

“Yeah, well, they stepped out of line for the last time. A small group of rebel supremacists have been working to undermine me. But they got sloppy and now I know both what they did and where they are.” Peter’s eyes weren’t quite glowing but they were slightly bluer than normal. Allison just sighed and looked very very tired. “The Code upholds peace and they’re going around and undoing my hard work. It can’t be allowed. Especially not after…” 

“What did they do?” Derek asked, his voice hoarse. 

She looked between the two of them and her shoulders fell down even further. “A fire. Killed seven wolves in Montana. Mountain ash around the perimeter.” 

Peter and Derek both growled deafeningly loudly and with so much ferocity that it was echoed without thought around the bar. Mama could feel her own fangs slide into place as a snarl ripped from her throat. Derek and Peter exchanged a long look and she was sure Derek was about to say something about good behavior, but instead the younger Hale looked at Allison and asked, “What do you need?” 

Allison smiled though it was strained and said, “I’ve got the firepower and the plan, what I need is the muscle. I need something they won’t be expecting. I need someone angry enough to tear through their defenses.” 

Another long look between the Hales before Derek gave a short nod and said, “You get us through whatever wolf securities they have and we’ll tear it down. All of it.” 

Allison looked relieved and she pulled out a small device and a tablet that she put on the table between them. “Here are the blueprints and here’s the plan.” She then flipped the switch on the smaller device and a barely audible hum grated against Mama’s ears. It wasn’t loud or painful but it was just enough to prevent her from listening to the rest of the conversation. 

They stayed in the booth for several hours, well past closing time, but Mama and very few of the patrons surrounding them dared to leave. Every move of the Argent was watched and cataloged, but she never made a move to harm the Hales, and the two men seemed perfectly at ease around her. They planned and argued for hours before she finally stood up and slipped the tablet back into her bag. The device went with it. 

“Dad and I will pick you up tomorrow afternoon. Be ready to go and we’ll have you back as soon as we can,” Allison said, her voice all business. Derek and Peter stood with her and nodded their agreement. 

The three of them walked toward the exit and only stopped when Mama called out softly to them. “Good hunting.” The three of them smiled harshly and she had to stop herself from taking a step back. Peter and Derek looked murderous and she could almost feel the rage wafting off them, but it was the hunter’s expression that concerned her. It was all dimples and sunshine even though her eyes were cold and furious. Mama had no doubt that they would be returning victorious. 

And three days later Peter and Derek strode back into the bar smelling like stale blood and mountain ash. “Good friend?” Mama asked as Peter picked up their drinks for the night. The bar tuned into their conversation and Peter looked considering for a moment. 

He then turned to the building at large and said loudly, “Allison Argent and Chris Argent are hunters that follow the Code. I trust them to ask questions before they shoot. Allison Argent is the matriarch of the Argent line and she’s good people.” He paused before deciding against adding anything else. He smiled at Mama and brought Derek his beer before shuffling off for a game of pool. The bar was abuzz with conversation and gossip and Derek watched it all with obvious amusement. Or perhaps it wasn’t obvious, perhaps she was just getting better at reading him. 

Derek strode over to his uncle halfway through the night, walking with intent even as he looked at his phone. “Jackson texted. Said Lydia knows what we did,” he said. 

Peter winced and missed his shot at pool. He scowled at the table and then turned to his nephew and asked, “And?” 

Derek’s phone vibrated as if on cue and Derek said, “He says good job.” Another buzz and Derek looked back down. “And to tell Allison hi for him next time we see her.”

Peter visibly preened at the words and then turned around to summarily trounce everyone at pool that night. Derek just watched with a smug satisfaction and lightness to his shoulders that she’d yet to see from the younger Hale. She wondered who  _ he _ was. Someone who approved of a hunter family being brutally killed. Someone the Hales were obviously eager to please. 

Allison Argent was easily the most surprising visitor, but not the most drama inducing one. That happened a month later when two wolves walked into the bar and made their way directly to the Hale booth. The moment Derek saw them he pulled out his phone and typed something out, Mama assumed it was a text to someone. Peter didn’t stand but his entire body went stiff in a way none of their earlier visitors had caused. It instantly put Mama on full alert. 

Derek stood up slowly and exchanged a friendly hug and gentle scenting with the curly-haired young man on the left. “Isaac,” Derek greeted softly, “It’s good to see you.” 

Isaac grinned impishly and turned the soft hug into a firm embrace. “You too, alpha.” 

Derek’s eyes flashed blue at the words but he just smiled softly and hummed in response. 

The other young man flashed his own eyes red and bared his teeth in what could have been a grimace or a snarl. “Derek,” he rumbled. His eyes turned to Peter and his glare intensified, “Peter.” 

Peter just cocked a brow and replied, “What’s brought you here, McCall?” 

Mama almost gasped but kept it together. A couple others around the bar didn’t manage that. The name McCall was making the rounds over the past couple years. True Alpha, the first in centuries. Peter’s eyes were amused as he surveyed the crowd after that. Scott didn’t notice or didn’t care. 

“Where is he?” Scott demanded. Peter’s attention instantly zeroed back in on Scott. “I’ve been calling him non-stop for three days. Where the hell is he?” 

Isaac rolled his eyes and settled into the booth pressed firmly up against Derek. Derek’s arm came up behind the booth and around Isaac in a way that spoke of familiarity and protectiveness. It made Mama even more curious than she was, which was impressive. Derek wasn’t an alpha, but he was sure acting like one. 

“He’s out of contact, Scott,” Peter replied through clenched teeth. His hand was gripping his beer glass too tightly and Mama was reasonably sure it would shatter if any more force was applied. 

“Damn you, Peter! This is important!” 

Derek leaned a little closer to Peter and replied for him, “Doesn’t matter. He’s not available and you know it.” 

“I  _ know _ it? I  _ know _ nothing beyond that he disappeared for months with no warning.” 

“He told you where he was going, it’s your own fault you never paid attention. He’s not just gone though, Scott. He’s  _ beyond contact _ and he will be for several more months.” 

“I don’t care where he is, I need you to get him back. Now. He needs to come home and help out.” 

Derek held out a hand in front of Peter to stop him from replying. “Help out with what?” 

“Beacon Hills is in trouble--” 

“When is it not?” Peter scoffed, apparently unable to hold back. 

Scott growled and Mama saw his eyes flash a vivid red once again. His next words were heavy and laden with alpha power, “Bring him to me. Now.” Isaac’s head instantly dropped to the side as he bared his neck for his alpha and Mama had to fight the urge to do the same. Wolves and other creatures alike throughout the bar lowered their own eyes in an instinctual show of submission. Derek and Peter didn’t so much as twitch. In fact, Peter’s grip on his glass finally loosened and he relaxed minutely. Mama watched in disbelief as Peter chuckled mockingly and leaned further into Scott’s space, a direct dominance display, and said, “I can’t. And I won’t. You may be a true alpha, McCall, but you’re not mine.” 

Derek took a quick breath in and looked like he’d just been smacked but his eyes were far away, like maybe he was remembering something. Peter’s hand came up to settle softly on his nephew’s shoulder for a moment before it returned to his beer. Scott looked furious and his claws popped out and his eyes were now starkly glowing red with no attempts to control it. It made the true alpha look like a disgruntled pup in front of calm and collected Peter. “Stiles would want to know what’s happening.” 

“Well, he can’t know. So tell us instead,” Jackson said from behind McCall. Mama startled, having not seen him come in. Mama realized that’s who Derek must have been texting before. He was calling in… backup? 

“Jackson,” Scott sneered around the name. Jackson for his part just smirked and ran a hand down Isaac’s arm in a friendly manner, but made no overture of friendship toward Scott. He pushed himself into the booth beside Peter and never took his eyes off of the alpha in front of him. 

“Tell me where Stiles is,” Scott demanded again, the alpha power dripping from his words. Jackson stiffened and his eyes flashed a bright blue in response. Mama used to think blue eyes were rare, but here three blue-eyed wolves sat in one booth at her bar. But Jackson’s eyes weren’t like the others. The same general color yeah, but the pupils were sideways slits and a little darker in shade. Like maybe they hadn’t always been a wolf’s… 

Peter snarled and placed a heavy hand on Jackson’s neck and squeezed. It seemed to help Jackson fight against the command and the younger man shook his head as if coming up from a daze and then he bared sharp teeth at McCall. “What the fuck, McCall? Go fuck yourself.” 

Scott harrumphed, like they were being unfair, but his eyes didn’t fade from red. “His dad nearly ended up dead last week!” 

Derek leaned forward all anger draining away to leave him slightly pale in the bar lighting. “Is the Sheriff okay?” 

“For now! Parrish is in the hospital though, having stepped between John and the thing that attacked him. I need Stiles and I need him now. And you really expect that he would choose whatever the hell he’s doing over his own father? You don’t know him at all.” 

Jackson rolled his eyes and leaned further back into Peter’s hand on his neck, as if it took effort to speak back to the alpha in front of him, which Mama had no doubt it did. McCall was radiating power. “He and Lydia are stuck in a trance for the better part of the next three weeks. Even if he did want to know, we can’t tell him.” 

Peter looked intrigued by that news for all of a couple seconds before he turned back to McCall. “Tell us what happened, we can help.” 

“ _ You _ can help?” 

Derek looked like he was biting back his own shift as he said gruffly, “Yes, us. We’ve saved Beacon Hills time and time again. If the Sheriff needs help, we’re there for him.” 

“I don’t think this is the best place to be having this conversation,” Peter added. He stood up, dragging Jackson along with him, though the young man seemed more than happy to go. Derek gently pushed Isaac up to follow. 

Scott stood up in a hurry but stood resolutely in front of Peter and Jackson, not letting them out of the corner. Derek rolled his eyes but just slung his arm around Isaac’s shoulder and together they walked out the front door, with a brief wave from Derek to Mama in goodbye. 

Peter stepped between Jackson and Scott and looked the alpha in the eye. His eyes glowed blue and he said, “Step aside, Scott. We have a town to save.” 

“Don’t think for one second that I buy this act you’re putting on,” Scott hissed as he shoved at Peter’s chest. Peter had to take a step back and Jackson steadied him immediately, but it was more than Mama had expected to happen. Peter didn’t give up ground. Ever. But Scott was apparently a true alpha and that meant power. “You’re still a no good psychopath that I should have put down years ago.” 

Jackson snarled but Peter just smirked and replied, “I’ve already died, Scott, and it wasn’t at your hands. You didn’t have the stomach or the skill for it then and you certainly don't now, so let’s stop pretending.” Peter shoved passed the alpha and walked a few steps before stopping. He turned to look at Scott over his shoulder, his expression mocking and victorious, “And good luck explaining it to  _ him _ if anything happens to me. You’re already on rocky ground there, McCall.” 

Mama didn’t understand any of what was happening. Peter died? He can’t have. And who the  _ hell was Stiles? _

Jackson hurried after Peter and Mama noticed the way that Peter let Jackson move in front of him so that the older wolf was always between McCall and his pack member. McCall’s eyes were still bleeding red by the time they all disappeared outside. The instant the door closed Mama took her first full lungful of air since those red eyes had flashed the first time. She looked around the building and found everyone else a little shaky on their feet too. What just happened? 

The Hales returned six days later looking exhausted and strung out. Jackson was with them and they didn’t say a word to anyone as they collapsed into their booth. Mama quickly brought them their customary drinks and retreated behind the bar to watch and wait. Peter looked like he hadn’t slept for days and Jackson was literally asleep at the table after ten minutes. Derek smelled like blood and he was favoring his right side. Peter absently reached over to place his hand on Derek’s exposed forearm and Mama watched black veins pull the pain from his nephew. She wanted to know if the Sheriff was okay, whoever he was. If they had saved the town, but she didn’t dare ask. 

They retired early that night but did seem more relaxed than when they had come in. She only hoped that they had found some peace in their familiar surroundings. They didn’t come in the next night and she tried not to worry. When they came back that third night they looked better but still tired. Derek settled himself at the bar though and talked to Mama about his newest book while Peter made the gossip rounds and caught himself up on everything he’d missed. Neither of them spoke about Beacon Hills though. 

Mama eventually gathered the courage to ask after the Sheriff and Derek had just smiled tiredly and said, “He’s fine. We’d spill a lot of blood before we’d let anything happen to him.” His eyes had glanced at Peter before returning to the counter. He didn’t say anything more. 

So she’d seen a lot of the Hales’ friends and perhaps not so friends, but she’d yet to see the famed Lydia or Stiles. They were mentioned a lot, Lydia by name, and Stiles by some sort of nebulous  _ he, _ like saying his name was taboo. She had to wonder if perhaps one of them was the missing alpha. It was the only thing that made sense. 

She had three blue-eyed wolves setting up semi-permanent shop in her bar corner. They had to have an alpha somewhere. All wolves had an alpha. But who could command blue eyes and the kind of power that those three carried with them? 

She finally met Lydia one year into the Hales’ stay at her bar. It was a night she’ll never forget. A night she’ll have nightmares about. 

It started normally, Peter making money hand over fist challenging newcomers to a game of darts. Derek geeking out quietly about the newest book that had come in the mail. Peter had got to read it first this time around and she’d watched the older Hale read it slowly over three days as Derek nearly vibrated in impatience. It was amusing and now she listened attentively as he explained it to her. It was always the most talkative Derek ever got. She savored it. She also tried to sneak glances at the written notes in the margins but Derek rarely put the book down. He ran his fingers over the cover and between the pages as if trying to soak up as much of the lingering scent as possible. 

Peter stopped by to listen for a few minutes, as he often did, and he watched the two of them with fondness that she knew he wouldn’t have shown for a second about six months ago. It made her feel strangely proud. 

Mama felt an odd sensation at the back of her throat but it was quickly overshadowed by the way that both Hale men clutched suddenly and almost violently at their own throats and let out a shared sort of mewl of distress. The bar went silent around them. Derek looked with wide eyes at Peter, who was already staring at his nephew. “Was that--” Derek started. 

“Yes,” Peter whispered. His eyes scanned the room before he looked right at Mama and said, “Empty the bar. Get everyone out. Now.” 

No one hesitated. Chairs were shoved back and everyone filtered rapidly toward the two exits. Half to the front and half to the back. They stopped short at the doors though because they couldn't force them open. It took seconds for everyone to realize why: a barrier of mountain ash. Panic gripped at Mama’s heart. Peter’s phone rang and the man had it up to his ear in less than a second. 

“It’s hunters!” Jackson’s voice issued out tinny and warped from the phone. “Lydia can  _ hear _ them--” he was cut off by a lot of rustling and what sounded like a key turning in a car. “We’re on our way, just stay safe, okay?” 

“We?” Derek asked in warring hope and panic. 

“Gotta go.” The phone call ended with a finality that made Mama’s stomach twinge. Hunters. Goddamn. She’d barely survived the only time she’d run into hunters in the past. 

“Why are they here?” Peter demanded looking around at the gathered panicking mass. He whistled harshly and everyone’s head turned to look at him. “Sit down and shut up!” Everyone did as told. “Everyone listen.” They looked at him expectantly and he rolled his eyes. “Not to me. Listen outside.” 

Mama strained to hear what was happening but she only heard that same buzz that had come from Allison’s device all those months back. As if having the same thought Peter turned to Derek and ordered, “Call Allison.” Derek whipped his phone out and Mama turned her attention back to the outside. She could smell the mountain ash now. “Any other exits?” 

Mama thought of the bathroom window but she had barred it shut after a couple customers had escaped out it with outstanding tabs. “No. Besides, the mountain ash will be all the way around the place, not just the doors.” 

Peter looked pale and for the first time since she’d met him, he looked scared. She could smell his sweat as he looked between the two different doors and she could almost feel his mind whirring. She ignored the brief conversation that Derek had with Allison and tried futilely to hear anything through that buzzing but failed. She could smell several different humans outside but couldn’t peg them down to any locations. 

Peter was breathing shallowly and Derek stood up and put a hand on his shoulder. “This isn’t like last time, we’re not alone,” Derek murmured. “They’re coming for us.” Mama instantly thought of the famed Hale house fire. She was frankly astonished that Peter was even still partially lucid. 

Peter nodded harshly and turned back to everyone. “Get down and out of sight. They’ll shoot for high spots first. If we’re lucky they won’t gas us, but we should open any windows and vents as far as we can. Bullets will be a silver and iron alloy covered in dead man’s blood and filled with wolfsbane. Don’t get fucking hit, but if you do, stay down and stay out of the way. Knives are covered with wolfsbane and holy water. Mountain ash will stay in place through wind and water, but you can use a hunter’s body to disrupt the line. Understood?” 

A quiet chorus of acknowledgment followed his question and people began to pick their way around the bar to pick spots for defense. Mama blasted the air conditioning and opened the few small windows in the place, it didn’t help her hear beyond that awful buzz though. It felt like being stuck in a pool that was being squeezed like a trash compactor. 

“What did Allison say?” Peter asked. 

Derek scowled but Mama figured he was scowling at the situation and not at Peter or Allison. “She’s making calls and sending the nearest unit but they’re still an hour away.” 

“What about the…” Mama made a gesture by her ear to convey the buzzing noise that she didn’t have a name for. 

Peter huffed and replied, “Standard hunter equipment these days. Not connected to her.” 

Normally Mama wouldn’t pry but she asked, “And you said someone’s coming? They’ll help us?” 

Peter was already walking away to stop someone from peeking out one of the windows and probably lose their head to a sniper bullet. Derek answered her though, “They’ll come.” 

“Will  _ he _ come?” she asked, not entirely sure what it was she was asking. 

He raised an eyebrow at her but he looked anticipatory and anxious, “He will if he can.” He shook his head as if refuting his own thoughts and added, “He will if he has to.”

That didn’t inspire a whole lot of relief or hope in Mama but she pulled out a shotgun from under the bar and checked the barrel. With a gun at least she wouldn’t have to get close to any overly armed hunters. He cracked a slight grin at the sight of the gun but left to help Peter set up a barricade at the doors and turn off all the lights. 

Then they waited. Ten agonizing minutes of trying desperately to hear movement or track scents. The doors were blown open with a flash of light and a punching force that made her ears pop. Mama ducked behind the bar and avoided the first spattering of bullets that were, sure enough, aimed right around head height. There was a pause as the hunters looked around the gloomy bar with flashlights and guns up and ready. Mama could finally hear properly. Heartbeats and footsteps made her ears twitch as she followed them. More and more hunters filed in and Mama knew the fight was seconds away from bursting forth. 

There was a snarl from the corner and Mama saw a coyote shifter spring at the back of a hunter and tear into muscle with long claws and desperate ferocity. A vampire jumped next as the succubus pushed out their pheromones to try and distract the enemy. A witch flashed a dagger out across an exposed hunter throat and retreated back to the shadows as a wolf roared on the other side of the bar. Mama stood up with her shotgun cocked and aimed for the nearest hunter. 

Chaos erupted around her and she struggled to keep up with the snarls and shouts and blood and movement. She shot three hunters in the knee caps before being forced to crouch and reload. She came back up just in time to clobber another hunter across the temple before he managed to stab the succubus. 

She saw two twin flashes of blue eyes as Peter and Derek dove into the heart of the fight and expertly slashed at throats and tendons while dodging bullets and flashing knives. It looked like this was something they were used to. Mama wasn’t used to it though. Most supernatural creatures/ beings weren’t actually used to constant violence. They had the natural weapons to fight back but most of the individuals Mama knew didn’t have in-depth training in combat. Fantastic control and a good understanding of supernatural politics, yes, but life and death awareness of something like this? No. 

The Hales did though. It was obvious that this fight would have already been done and over with if the Hales weren’t there to keep the hunters on their toes. They grabbed flash bombs before they could go off and threw them through the windows. They disarmed hunters and sliced guns into pieces. They went for every exposed piece of flesh and kept the attention off the other patrons around them. 

Still, a vampire was dead on the floor and the witch was holding a dagger in place that was stabbed into her gut, desperate to keep the bleeding down. A coyote shifter and a wolf shifter were both twitching on the ground as wolfsbane from a knife and a bullet each passed swiftly through their blood. 

“Enough!” Peter growled, holding a hunter to his chest with his claws posed over his throat. Derek grabbed the nearest one to him and pulled the blonde woman to his chest as well, claws already dripping with blood and digging into her neck. There were at least ten dead hunters scattered around the place, the majority by the Hales, and the others had backed up to one side of the bar. Mama cocked her shotgun and aimed at a hunter behind the Hales. 

Both doors had been blown off their hinges at the beginning, leaving an open sight line to outside where Mama could see the line of mountain ash. It was neat and precise and nearly two inches thick. The smell of it itched at her nose and made her head throb faintly. 

Her gaze caught on a flash of silver as a gaudy Porsche careened into the parking lot. Blue eyes were the only thing she saw as a blur of motion sprung out from the car and took out the two hunters standing guard at the trucks outside. Jackson. 

A flash of red hair caught her attention as someone climbed out the passenger side of the Porsche. The rest of the hunters around Mama hadn’t noticed the commotion and she kept strict control of her expression so as to not reveal what she’d seen. 

A young woman was walking up to the door and try as she might Mama couldn’t look away from her. She was beautiful and eerie, only the headlights of the Porsche and the trucks outside lighting her up, but Mama’s coyote enhanced eyes could see the floral pattern of her dress. She could smell the sweet cloying scent of vanilla and the underlying scent of… something like death, but softened around the edges like mothballs or must. 

Peter and one of the hunters were talking now but all Mama could focus on was the red headed young woman. At first, she’d thought the approaching figure was a child or a teenager, but closer up she could tell that she was Jackson’s age. Twenty or twenty-one. Mama felt that same tickle at her throat from before as the redhead stopped at the mountain ash line and looked down at it. With a dainty step forward and a swipe of a designer heel, the woman broke the mountain ash line and smiled. 

Blue eyes shone over her shoulders and Mama watched as Jackson and the woman who could only be Lydia, stepped through the door and looked around. Derek and Peter froze and Mama saw the way Peter had to stop himself from stepping closer to them. Derek looked wide-eyed upon Lydia and Mama could almost taste his desperation to step in front of her and protect her. Jackson did just that, making sure the majority of Lydia’s person was behind his body. The hunters hesitated as they tried to come to terms with the newcomers. 

Guns swung around to aim at Lydia and Jackson and Peter snarled deafeningly loud and, accidentally or not, shredded the throat beneath his hand. Half the guns turned back to him and he let the body drop from his hands to the floor. Half a dozen fingers tensed to shoot but Lydia said with a singsong voice that held a bite that reminded Mama of Peter, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” 

The man Peter had been talking to before hesitated and signaled for a hold before he asked, never taking his gun off of Peter, “And why not?” 

Lydia studied her nails as she straightened her skirt and popped her hip to the side. Her eyes were just visible over Jackson’s shoulder and they were as beautiful as the rest of her. And just as cold. “Because if you do I’ll scream until your brains are mush.” 

A banshee. Mama should have known the moment she caught that scent. Death clung to banshees like a second skin. “Are you Lydia?” she asked before she could stop herself. 

Lydia looked her way and scanned Mama from head to toe before quirking a brow and giving a small satisfied smile. “I am, indeed. You must be Mama.” Mama tried not to be too proud that Lydia knew who she was but something must have come across in her expression because Lydia’s gaze softened ever so slightly. “Seems you have a pest problem.” 

“So, tell me something,” Peter interrupted, eyes still on the lead hunter. “Did you get assigned this locale by the Council or did you decide to get your rocks off going rogue?” 

“The Council is weak and--” 

“The Council is responsible for you hunters!” Peter flexed his claws in and out of place and he eyed the remaining force around them. “You’re going to turn around and leave. The Argent family is on their way here to bring you in on charges to the Council.” 

“The Boutrins,” one of the younger hunters whispered in fear. 

Derek snorted and Peter nodded. “Exactly. If you leave now I’m sure that your fate could be less bloody than their’s.” Peter paused and then as if he couldn’t help himself he added, “No promises.” 

A couple wolves near the door bolted through the broken line of ash and out into the free air. Peter slashed through the two guns that turned to stop their progress. Those hunters immediately pulled out new knives but Peter had already danced out of range once again. “Alright, new offer,” Peter said amicably like they were haggling over a good price at the farmer’s market. “Let everyone go, then stay here for the Argents.” 

Lydia waved her hand and there was a slight disturbance in the air before the mountain ash line parted at the other door as well. The succubus scooped up the injured witch in her arms and darted out into the night. Derek caught a crossbow bolt fired at their back and crushed it in his hands. Before anyone else could move to escape the lead hunter sent a small spray of bullets through the air. Everyone ducked out of the way and the bullets landed harmlessly in the wood of the wall. “STOP,” he commanded. “Who the hell are you?” he asked Peter in bafflement and anger. 

Surprise flashed across Peter’s face and Mama almost chuckled at that. “You mean you don’t know?” Peter asked in return. The words didn’t come out as mocking as Mama assumed they were meant to. 

“We’re here for her!” the hunter gestured toward Mama with his gun and Mama flinched away from it. “Word got out about this place and her blatant favoritism and treatment of  _ monsters _ .” 

“I have a business to run!” Mama defended angrily. Peter sent her a concerned and also amused glance. Lydia gave her an encouraging nod as if she approved of Mama. Derek just scowled and Jackson didn’t budge from his spot in front of Lydia. 

There were now a dozen or so dead hunters on the ground and eight still standing, not counting the one under Derek’s claws. Ten of her customers were still alive and crouched around the edges of the showdown. Two dead. Two dying. The hunters were still heavily armed and a second away from opening fire. Things could go badly at any moment. And everyone knew it. 

Lydia moved a fraction of a second before the main hunter did, her eyes going wide and her hand coming up to her throat as she turned to look at Mama. Mama watched in detached amazement as the hunter’s gun swung around in her direction. A glass shattered by her hand as a bullet missed her arm by inches. She moved to crouch down but the rapid fire of six more shots nearly deafened her. After another moment, where she felt no pain, she looked up in horror to find Peter and Derek. The hunter in Derek’s hands was now dead and on the ground. The main hunter who had just shot at her was bleeding out from a wound in his throat. Chaos was a breath away from breaking out again as everyone took in the sudden changes. Mama gasped in a breath through a clogged throat and Lydia  _ screamed _ . 

Mama instantly collapsed under the strain of the scream in her mind and watched as everyone else did too. Mama crawled out from behind the bar so she could see what was happening but was unable to do anything else. The only one not affected by the scream was Jackson, who was grimacing but still moving and effectively tearing out the throats of all the downed hunters. 

Mama’s eyes were fixed on Lydia for a moment as she screamed. Those beautiful eyes were wide and scared and fixed on the two bodies at her feet. Mama turned her head with an exhausting amount of effort and swallowed through the pain racing through her head. There lay Peter and Derek. Derek had one spot of blood high up in his left shoulder, missing his heart by a couple inches. Blood spread across his chest slowly and she could smell the wolfsbane, but he could be saved. 

It was Peter that made her eyes well up with horrified tears. Peter had a line of bullet wounds slicing across his body from his left hip up to his right shoulder. She counted five of them. The stench of rot coming from him was nauseating. 

Lydia finally stopped screaming and Mama was immediately crawling forward toward Peter and Derek. Derek would last maybe an hour but they had plenty of supplies to help him. Peter would be gone in moments. Too much wolfsbane. 

Jackson stepped between Mama and Peter and she snarled brokenly, her clawed hand coming up to grasp weakly at the boy’s ankle. The reverberations of the banshee scream was still buzzing through her and leaving her weak, unable to move him out of the way. Jackson paid her no mind as he hit the floor with his knees and leaned over Peter’s chest. “Peter? Come on, man. Stay with me,” Jackson pleaded. Mama had never heard him sound anything besides cocky or angry. Now he sounded wrecked. 

“He’s gonna be pissed,” Peter choked out. Mama was almost glad she couldn’t see his face. That thought disappeared as she glanced over at Derek who was looking at his uncle with such devastation that it left her whining in distress. Lydia was crouched by Derek’s side, her floral skirt getting smudged with blood as she grabbed the nearest gun and popped out a bullet. She blew on the metal casing and it blew apart in her hands to reveal the wolfsbane powder in the middle. She snapped her fingers and a small flame appeared above her shaking fingers. She set the powder alight and then ripped Derek’s shirt in two to shove the ashes into the wound. 

Derek growled in absent pain at the sensation but his hand was already reaching out for Peter. There was no way Lydia could do that five more times before Peter was gone. “P’er,” Derek mumbled. 

“I will not scream for you,” Lydia spat out and Mama noted the way her teeth were clenched like she was physically holding back a cough, or in this case a scream. Mama wondered if it would make a difference. “I won’t do it. He would never forgive me.” Someone flipped the lights on and the bloody scene before Mama was so much worse in the light. There were tears in Lydia’s eyes and it made the prism of her green irises even more heartbreakingly gorgeous. 

Mama closed her eyes and listened to Peter’s rasping breathes. “Tell him--” 

Lydia’s head snapped up and she interrupted mercilessly, “No.” Then her head cocked to the side and her eyes went distant as she gave a chill-inducing smile. “Tell him yourself. He’s here.” Lydia scrambled to her feet and it was ungraceful and desperate but the sudden movement broke Mama into focus. “Get him up, Jacks. Get him outside.” 

Jackson didn’t waste time. He stood and fluidly scooped Peter up into his arms and sprinted out into the parking lot. Lydia helped a stumbling Derek up and all four of them disappeared out the door and into the lot. Mama moved to follow but the mountain ash barrier snapped back into place. Mama and the others watched in confusion and shock, unable to feel betrayed or angry, too far removed and still reeling from the banshee scream just a minute before. Mama pushed herself a few feet further across the bar, just enough to be able to see out the door properly before she gave up and collapsed. 

She saw a slight figure step in front of the Porsche headlights and she heard one stuttered, “Stiles,” from Derek. Then they were out of range and the buzz from the hunters’ tech made it impossible to hear. But she watched as a lithe male frame bent over Peter’s prone body. She saw one of Peter’s bloody hands come up to weakly reach out but fall back to the ground in defeat. 

Lydia was standing to the side wrapped up in Jackson’s arms and her red hair flaming to life in the car’s lights. Jackson’s eyes were blue and wide and fixed on Peter and the other person. Derek was collapsed and propped up on the front grill of the Porsche itself and he looked empty, cracked open and destroyed as he looked down at his family dying on the ground. 

She wanted to look away and give them privacy but she couldn’t look away from Peter’s twitching body. She imagined she could still hear his breathing. She stiffened slightly when she caught a scent of lightning, stronger than ever before. Pure and undiluted. Honeyed lightning so fresh it made her skin tingle pleasantly.

There was a flash of light and the smell of burning flesh. The stench of ash and wolfsbane and rot wafted through the building making her and everyone around her gag violently. There was another flash of light that Jackson and Derek both turned away from, but Mama was looking at the banshee, and she watched Lydia’s eyes reflect the piercing light without flinching or looking away. The light seemed to cling to the red-head even after the burst was gone. 

The figure leaning over Peter leaned back and looked up at the sky. They were in front of the lights so Mama couldn’t see their face, but their body looked like it was sagging in relief. Two hands came together and clapped, though she still couldn’t hear it, and a strong wind ripped through the parking lot and the bar, and the next time Mama took a breath in there was no trace of rot on the air. 

The figure dropped to press a kiss to Peter’s forehead and hands pressed at the wolf’s chest before he stood. Peter’s hands twitched toward the body leaving him but Derek was there and scooping up the reaching hand. Lydia smiled tremulously and embraced the stranger, that Mama could now see was male. Young. Pale. He settled a hand briefly on Jackson’s shoulder and the young wolf leaned heavily into the contact. They said something to each other and Jackson beamed happily before he pulled Lydia back toward the Porsche. 

The stranger placed his hand in Derek’s hair and soothingly moved his fingers through the strands. Derek melted into the touch and leaned into the leg next to him for a long moment before looking up into the face of Peter’s savior. Derek’s face split into a wide genuine smile that was half lit from behind and it was breathtaking. The stranger then knelt once again and Peter said something she obviously couldn’t hear before the figure stroked a thumb across Peter’s face. The Porsche backed out of the parking lot and went speeding away. Between the flash of headlights and her next breath the mystery person disappeared. 

The mountain ash disappeared with him and not a single speck could be seen nor was there any lingering smell to even know it was there by. Only honeyed lightning remained. And blood. Lots of blood. Mama let out a harsh breath and she finally let her head fall back to the floor and she just laid there for a long time counting her blessings. 

Someone eventually turned the damned buzzing thing off and Mama instantly zoned in on Peter’s steady heartbeat. She had Stiles to thank for that. Because that’s who that must have been. There was no other option. The Hales had been on their knees before Stiles and it had seemed natural. She shivered and wondered what would have happened if any of the hunters had actually still been alive by the time Stiles had shown up. 

Eventually, the Argent hunters drove up and Derek had yelled at Allison for twenty minutes. Allison had her men load up the dead hunters in the now ownerless trucks and left with a promise to get Mama’s off the radar and keep it there. Mama was light-headed with relief and gratitude. She helped treat the injured coyote and wolf and at the end of the day, only two lives had been lost. 

The first thing Mama said to Peter and Derek once she managed to find them was thank you. The second was that they would drink for free for life. Peter had laughed and only barely winced at the pull on his still healing wounds. Nobody would let them help clean up. Nobody left that night without thanking them at least six times. Nobody understood how Peter was still alive but they didn’t want to question it. Nobody, besides Mama, had seen Stiles. 

Peter and Derek were on edge for the next week as Mama and everyone helped to put the bar back together. Peter and Derek helped out but their hearts weren’t in it. No package had shown up on Monday and the two Hales couldn’t sit still. They paced around the edges of the bar and they couldn’t seem to stop themselves from doing visual perimeter sweeps as they did it. They mumbled lowly to each other but it was just snatches of conversations. They seemed worried that  _ he _ would be mad. Or punished. Or something. That they’d messed the ‘whole thing’ up. She heard the phrase best behavior a couple of times said sardonically. She didn’t understand and she frankly was too damn grateful that she and her bar were still standing to care too much. 

Things were nearly back to normal for Mama, only the bullet holes still remained and a couple troublesome blood stains, when Jackson showed back up. The Hales didn’t even wait for him to reach the booth, they had the younger were crushed between them before he made it ten steps in. Jackson chuckled but she could see him relaxing at the physical proof that they were all still here and alive. Jackson’s hand hovered over Peter’s chest for a good few seconds before he pushed his fingers into firm healthy skin and muscle. 

She ushered them all to their booth and placed down their drinks in front of them. She caught Jackson’s eye and said, “You too, young man, will never pay for your drinks again. Or your banshee friend.” They all stiffened slightly at the mere mention of Lydia and she didn’t dare say anything about Stiles. She just smiled and retreated back to the bar to pretend to wash glasses as she listened to them talk. 

She’d barely picked up a cup when Peter had asked, “Are they okay?” 

Jackson nodded his head and he looked really tired but not anxious. “They’re fine. Lydia didn’t sleep for like three days thanks to Peter, but she’s fine. And…” 

Derek and Peter leaned forward in unison. 

“I haven’t heard from him but Lydia says he’s smoothing feathers. As we all know, he isn’t supposed to leave. It’s a big no-no, for some reason. She says it may have set them back weeks if not months, but things are okay.” 

“Months?” Peter whined with a genuine Derek-like scowl. 

Derek, for his part, was scowling even harder than normal. “As long as he’s safe,” the younger Hale admonished though he also looked crestfallen. 

“Safe as before,” Jackson said but Mama could hear the slight hesitation in his voice and the half beat of his heart. 

Both Hales froze and turned to slowly look at his chest and the heart that gave away his deception. Jackson grimaced and took a long swallow of his beer. “Look, I’m not supposed to tell you this, but really Lydia should have known this would happen.” He downed the rest of his glass and Mama was already filling up another even as she watched them with bated breath. “Lydia suspects that the commune isn’t  _ comfortable _ with his… intensity.” 

There was a long moment as they all take that in. Derek was the one to break the silence. “Like Deaton?” 

Jackson nodded his head and Peter swore under his breath as he collapsed back heavily into the booth behind him. They drank quietly all lost in their thoughts, and Mama silently brought them another round. Jackson stood up to go after another hour of pensive staring at each other, but he said, “Look, I’ll figure out what I can, but I only see Lydia once a week for like an hour, and she can only tell me so much. Just be ready to… god, I don’t know. Just be ready.” 

The Hales nod and gave him long hugs before he left and they didn’t come out from their booth again that night. They left early too. Mama supposed they had a lot to discuss. Or perhaps they just wanted a change of scenery to sit and brood silently within. 

The next Monday a package was waiting for them and the Hales relaxed a bit more. Derek’s scowl broke for the first time since that night and Peter cracked a joke that wasn’t too jagged around the edges. And over the next two and a half months, things went back to normal. Even if Mama had nightmares every night and even if her eyes sometimes caught on Peter’s chest unable to not see the blood staining his shirt from that night. Even if everyone tried but failed to ignore the massive debt they owed the Hales. Things were good. She ignored the mounting tension in the Hale men’s shoulders. She ignored the voice at the back of her head that whispered that something was coming. She was tired and she wanted things to be good. So they were. 

Fifteen months since the day the Hales had walked into her bar things started to change. Jackson came and delivered the news that Lydia was almost done. He talked about how she had a tattoo she hated but that they were almost done. Mama still didn’t know what they were done  _ with _ , but Peter and Derek and Jackson seemed happy that it would soon be in the past. Jackson mentioned Lydia’s suspicions again. The name Deaton. Then he left with a hopeful step and a smile for Mama. 

No package came on the following Monday. Then Jackson missed a week. Then another week. No packages showed up. No texts were returned or calls picked up. 

The Hales were a mess. They didn’t drink or sit down, they prowled around the inside and the outside of the bar. Their eyes flashed blue at loud noises and they didn’t leave until closing time. They barely said two words to anyone besides warnings to get out of their way. Mama tried to give silent support but she didn’t know what the problem was. Others tried to offer help or ask if they could do anything for them, but the Hales barely noticed their presence. Every day their eyes were blue for a little longer. Mama had the feeling she was watching two wolves go slowly feral. It was terrifying. Because these weren’t just wolves, they were Hales. 

She nearly cried when Jackson finally burst through the front door after three weeks of radio silence. Her relief was short lived as she got a good look at Jackson. He was pale and shaking and wide eyed. His clothes were rumpled and smelled like he’d been wearing them for days on end. Peter and Derek were petting and growling at him within moments of the door opening. It was similar to Jackson’s first visit after the hunter attack. This one was more intense and desperate. 

“What’s wrong?” Derek finally managed to vocalize. His eyes were flashing between normal hazel and supernatural blue. Peter’s were just glowing. 

Jackson shivered as Peter laid a hand on the back of his neck and squeezed. “We have to get ready,” Jackson finally said. As if the words themselves gave him strength, he straightened his shoulders and repeated himself, “We have to get ready. They’re coming.” 

Derek looked around in confusion and asked, “Where’s Lydia?” 

“With Stiles.” Mama startled a little at the brazen use of the name. Peter did too but he blinked in shock and the blue glow of his eyes faded until only his own ice blue remained. “They’re coming here. They said to get ready.” 

Peter glanced around the bar with wide eyes. He gestured uselessly with a shaking hand. “How?” Jackson shrugged helplessly. 

Derek rolled his shoulders back and looked around. “We should empty the bar. No one should be here.” 

They looked at Mama who didn’t try to hide the fact that she was watching closely. She raised one brow and crossed her arms. “No way in hell.” She looked around at her friends and sighed. “You can try to make us leave, but I don’t think you’ll have much luck. We look out for our own after all.” And they owed the Hales a debt. Perhaps they could start chipping away at that now. 

Jackson gave her a shaky smile that made her want to cuddle him like a puppy, it was easily the most genuine expression she’d ever seen on him, except for perhaps the fear he’d shown over Peter’s dying body. Derek’s eyebrows loomed at her but she just bit her lip to keep herself from smiling. Peter’s eyes were already scanning the people around them. 

An hour later and Derek, Peter, and Jackson were pacing restlessly in a small circle in the middle of the bar. The front door was open in front of them. Mama stood behind the bar counter with her shotgun sitting on the bar top and a cleaning rag in her hand as she shined the beer glasses. A succubus and a witch stood in the corner, a coyote and wolf in another. A vampire was lurking by the bathroom and several other individuals were dotting the booths throughout the bar. All were on high alert. 

Anyone who entered the establishment was pulled aside and given a run down. Some decided to leave. Most glanced at the Hales and took their own spots along the walls. Waiting. For something no one knew. 

It was almost anticlimactic when it started. 

Jackson tensed a moment before a woman with red hair appeared on the far edge of the parking lot. She was walking slowly but purposefully. Unlike the last time Mama had seen Lydia, the banshee looked frazzled. Her floral dress was gone and replaced with dark blue ill-fitting cotton pants and a loose grey tank top that fluttered about her in the wind. She wore no shoes and her hair was in a tangled curly mess around her face. Around her left bicep was a spiraling runic tattoo that seemed darker and deeper than just ink. 

Jackson had first slumped in relief at seeing her and was then tripping over himself as he ran to her side. Derek and Peter had tensed but stayed in place, eyes roaming over the parking lot in a constant sweep for danger. 

Lydia had smiled as Jackson picked her up and then sprinted back into the bar as if the building could protect the woman. Derek and Peter, who had restrained from running outside in order to watch for danger, were by her side in a second and pulling her into hugs and petting her unruly hair. There were a few tears at the true reunion and Mama wanted to gather them all up and feed them dinner and beer until the fear around them dissipated. 

Lydia pulled back after a few minutes. She wiped at the tears on her face and rolled her thick lips together as she regained herself. “They decided that we shouldn’t be let go. That we were too valuable as assets,” she eventually managed to say. Three growls cut her off and she smiled slightly at the protective sounds. 

“Where is he?” Peter asked with a hoarse voice. His eyes were back on the parking lot as if the man in question would pop up like Lydia had seemed to. 

“He’s coming. After the last binding ritual Stiles went catatonic. It was expected, his spark needed to fully absorb the-- it doesn’t matter. The point is that he was unconscious for like two weeks and change. The moment he was out though they grabbed me and chained me up. Then when Jackson came for his normal visitation they grabbed him too. I could hear it happening but there was nothing I could do.” She looked distressed with wide eyes and her teeth catching on her full lips. Jackson stepped forward wordlessly to press further into her side. She looked at him as if to make sure he was really there before she nodded and continued her explanation. 

“I could feel Stiles come back to himself and it took a moment for him to realize he’d been detained just like us. I could feel him… he was so  _ angry _ .” Her fingers traced absently at the tattoo on her arm and Mama swore the runes shifted a little at her touch. The ink was a dark red and almost viscous looking and she realized that it was most likely a blood tattoo, something only strong magic users could endure or create. 

“When he blasted his way into the room I was being kept in he was furious. He sent me here and said he’d be on his way.” 

“But why’d they imprison you?” Derek asked, his hand was rubbing small circles into the small of her back and Mama was pretty sure he didn’t even know he was doing it. 

“We agreed at the beginning, or rather Stiles agreed, to lend them power in return for the knowledge and training to get us through the bindings. But they didn’t want to lose their free power up.” Mama was starting to wonder if the tattoo had to do with the binding she was talking about. She didn’t know much about bindings. Just that they were difficult and permanent. 

“How’d the binding go? Did it work?” Peter asked. 

Lydia beamed and it was so real and relieved that Mama had to fight to not reach out for her. “Peter, I can  _ hear _ . Not just hints of things but  _ real _ things. I can tell what’s really there and what’s on a different plane. I can  _ control _ it. Stiles’ spark is the perfect counterpoint to my darker energies.” 

“And Stiles?” 

“Stabilized.” Lydia gave Peter’s arm a strong squeeze of reassurance and a smile. “He’s safe now. No combustion. No burning up. I act as an insulator for him.” She looked around at her small group, completely and effectively ignoring the bar of people around them. “We’re both safe and contained and I’m so fucking  _ relieved _ . It’s been so long and now--” she broke off and wiped at the tears at her face. Mama didn’t know what the young banshee had been going through before this moment but she was glad that Lydia was now safe. 

Then the woman’s words finally caught up to Mama. It sounded like Lydia had bound herself to Stiles. Mama hadn’t heard of anything like that before. The little she knew of bindings was to physical things like charms or amulets or staffs. She eyed the dark red, nearly black, tattoo on Lydia’s arm and knew without a doubt that the mysterious Stiles must be sporting a matching one. She couldn’t fathom that. 

“Should we be doing something?” Derek asked nervously. “Are the commune a threat to us?” 

Lydia shrugged and replied, “A threat, yes. To us? No. Not with Stiles, at least.” 

“But where is he?” Peter asked as he eyed the parking lot desperately. 

Lydia closed her eyes and cocked her head to the side as if she was listening to something far away. She smiled and said, “He’ll be here soon. He’s just taking care of a few things.” 

“But he’s okay?” Jackson asked. 

“Boys, I don’t think you understand,” Lydia explained with a smirk. “Stiles is better than okay. For the first time in our lives Stiles and I are in control. We’re  _ balanced _ .” Peter growled impatiently which just made Lydia giggle and pull him into a long hard hug. “Relax, Peter. You’ve waited over a year. A few more minutes won’t kill you.” 

Peter looked like he was about to argue with that statement but then there was an inaudible pop in the air and everyone watched as someone appeared in the middle of the parking lot. There was a second where no one and nothing moved. Then the figure fell to his knees on the dirty hot asphalt, and suddenly Peter was tearing out of the bar and over to the collapsed individual. Peter fell to his own knees and pulled the young man into his arms. Derek was the next to make it through the door, followed closely by Jackson. Lydia just watched them with a smile and walked at a more sedate pace over to the group. 

Peter stood up, pulling the other person with him, just in time for Derek and Jackson to descend on them. “Stiles,” Peter breathed the word out like a benediction and the boy, Stiles, just smiled wide and happy. She watched Stiles hug Derek and Jackson next, could practically feel the wolves vibrating with happiness. Watched the way none of them could stop themselves from touching and rubbing their scent into Stiles’ bare arms. 

Stiles was wearing the same blue pants and tank top ensemble as Lydia, and sure enough, around his bicep curled a matching tattoo. Apparently Stiles and Lydia were capable of binding their magical energies to each other. Possibly their souls. Not only was that an incredible feat of power, but just thinking of the level of  _ trust _ the two of them must have was humbling.  

Derek and Peter quickly herded Jackson and Stiles into the bar followed by a bemused Lydia. Stiles was talking so fast that she couldn’t understand individual words, but Jackson and Derek were nodding along as if they were used to it. Peter was interjecting quick quips, obviously not struggling to keep up in any way. Stiles gestured wildly in the middle of his incomprehensible story and almost smacked Derek in the face but the dour wolf just expertly dodged out of the way without missing a beat. 

Stiles didn’t create an image of power to her. He was thin and pale and nothing like the Hales who held power in their very skin. Lydia and Jackson both held an innate grace and otherworldliness to them. But Stiles? He looked young and inconsequential next to the rest of them. Yet she could smell rainwater and lightning and sweet honey emanating from the boy. This was undoubtedly the  _ him _ they’d been talking around for months. 

Stiles suddenly cut his talking off and she watched in detached shock as Stiles gently reached out and placed a long fingered hand on Jackson’s throat. A common grounding technique of alpha wolves for their betas. Jackson’s eyes slipped to half closed and he growled happily in his throat. Stiles smiled and then moved to do the same to Derek, who tilted his head to the side without pause to bare his throat to Stiles. Mama struggled to process the clear submission on Derek, the normally so removed young man. Derek just gave a soft, almost not there, smile and mumbled Stiles’ name. 

Mama didn’t dare blink as Stiles turned to Peter. If anyone was to refuse the dominant overtures it’d be the ever elusive Peter Hale. But Peter just smiled in a way that made his eyes crinkle up and easily tilted his head to the side baring his vulnerable throat to Stiles. It was surreal to watch. Like a fundamental law of her existence had been rewritten in front of her. Peter Hale didn’t submit. Not to anyone, not even the true alpha McCall. But here he was, giving in to Stiles. Messy haired and wild eyed Stiles. She didn’t understand how someone as young as Stiles could be holding such power over the  _ Hales _ . 

Peter’s chest rumbled in a soft sound of contentedness that she’d only ever heard from happy betas. Being claimed by an alpha was a heady thing and, in her experience, gave an almost immediate relief to frayed nerves. She couldn’t imagine the relief of being claimed by an alpha that had been missing for over a year. Frankly, she didn’t understand how they had made it through that fifteen months. Even with the obvious scent therapy that the Hales and Jackson had been going through with those packages. 

This pack just continuously baffled her. She chanced a glance away from Peter and Stiles to look out at the rest of the bar. Her patrons were watching in varying degrees of incomprehension. The vampire looked like he was about to collapse from shock. She chuckled and turned back to the group at the center of the attention. 

Before she could continue her Hale watching in earnest, the building around them started to shake. A strong wind buffeted around outside and she could feel the force of it in her bones. She gave an uneasy glance at the parking lot, expecting an army or something to appear like Stiles and Lydia had. 

Instead, six figures slowly sharpened into existence, all wearing long cloaks and hoods like they were in a tv show. They were all approximately the same size and she couldn’t really discern anything else about them. There was an aura of power coming off of them however that was hard to miss. Stiles stepped away from Peter and the others and walked out the door straight for them. Mama wanted to grab him and pull him back. To protect his skinny frame and wide eyes. 

Peter twitched almost violently like he wanted to do the same. Lydia tossed her hair over her shoulder, and though it was still tangled and messy, she looked in control and strong. She walked just one step behind and to the side of Stiles and it felt natural for the two of them. Mama watched their tattoos darken and roil where they sat under their skin. 

Peter and Derek and Jackson quickly followed but Mama didn’t move. She just watched from the bar as the Hale pack walked up to the six hooded figures in the lot with no hesitation. Her keen senses meant she could see and hear every detail of what was happening. 

Stiles stood with his hip cocked to one side and his arms crossed in front of his chest. He was leaning slightly toward Lydia who stood next to him. Peter and Derek were on Stiles’ other side and Jackson had come up to stand next to Lydia. They made a strong line of five against six. But Stiles and Lydia both just looked so small. 

“You cannot be allowed freedom, Spark. You will--” one of the hoods spoke, Mama couldn’t tell which one. 

Stiles interrupted them, “Let’s not pretend that this is anything but what it is. You’re scared of losing access to my energies.” Stiles’ voice was angrier than Mama thought he would be able to be. She remembered Lydia talking about how she’d felt Stiles’ anger and thought that maybe she sort of understood that. “The deal was that you help us with the bonding ritual to stabilize our powers and I would give you raw energy. I gave you enough power to run your commune for a decade if used appropriately.” 

“Come with us willingly, we could give you a good life. You and your banshee.” 

Lydia scoffed and placed her small hand on her small waist and said in a voice that was anything but small, “I’m not anyone’s, and we’re certainly not yours. You broke your oath. That has consequences.” 

A couple of the hooded figures moved uneasily as if they were second guessing themselves. Mama wondered why but fervently hoped they would leave. 

There was a long silence that felt like it was physically pushing down on her chest. Then Stiles spoke. “You already tried to detain me once. Me and my pack. I gave you mercy when I didn’t proclaim your oath breakers then and there.” 

A disbelieving laugh was Stiles’ answer. Mama watched the third cloaked person from the right clutch at their stomach in an over exaggerated show of disrespect. “Even you don’t have the power to call upon the forces that could counter a broken oath, Spark. You are untrained and weak despite your natural raw energy. You must return with us to the commune where we can keep you safe.” 

“Keep us safe? Like the way you locked us all up?” Jackson asked. 

A different cloaked individual, this one on the far right, stepped forward with their hands outstretched in a gesture of compliance and perhaps fear. “It was a mistake! Please, the commune can give you everything you’d need.” 

“What I need is my pack and my freedom. Freedom that is owed to me,” Stiles responded. “You can’t bind me to you, or you would have already. You have no claim on me.” 

“We are the only ones with a claim on you. More so than this pack of vagrant scavengers,” the disbelieving man from before scoffed back with a dismissive hand wave of the werewolves around him. “Come with us now or we shall take you back.” 

Stiles just shrugged his shoulders and asked, “Did you forget who I am?” No one answered him but a couple of the cloaks once again nervously shifted. Stiles actually laughed and it held no menace or malice within it just shocked amusement. “You just don’t get it, do you? Despite everything I’ve done you still think me weak? Me?” Stiles’ voice was losing that affableness to it and dipping more toward frustrated anger. “I am the spirit of the Fox and child of the Nemeton. I am blood bound and pack held.” Stiles gestured faintly at Lydia on the word blood and the Hales at the word pack. “So, please,” Stiles returned to sounding earnest, “leave me alone, because I am one of the only people who could feasibly hold you to an oath.” 

Two of the figures shifted one last time before turning on their heels and walking away. They disappeared after a few steps and Mama returned her full attention to the four still standing. No one mentioned the deserters but Stiles’ shoulders relaxed just a tad at their exit. It seemed Stiles really didn’t want to hurt anyone. 

The lead cloaked man stepped closer to Stiles as if to make up for his compatriots leaving, and said, “Come now, Spark. It is your time to fulfill your duty.” 

“His duty?” Peter echoed in anger and disbelief. 

“Sparks were made to give energy to the magical community. It is their purpose.” 

“You’re saying I was born to be a battery?” Stiles asked. 

“Sparks are what they sound like!” the cloaked man was angry again. “They are the fuel for the fire of the rest of us. Nothing more!” 

“Hate to break it to you, dude, but I don’t think anyone here actually believes that. You’re just trying to justify your greed.” Stiles suddenly stood to his full height, which was surprisngly an inch or so taller than Peter when he wasn’t slouching, and said, “I’m not a battery and I’m not a pet. I’m not even particularly nice or forgiving. You picked the wrong Spark to fuck with, Bartholomew.” 

The angry man, presumably Bartholomew, made a slashing gesture toward Stiles and said something rapidly in a language that felt old and mean. Mama watched with wide eyes as the shadows of the cloaked figures leaped out toward Stiles and the rest of the Hale pack. Stiles, however, just raised an eyebrow and lazily waved a few fingers and the shadows dissipated like they were never there. “Fine. You did this though, remember that.” Stiles paused and cocked his head to the side and added, “Or not. ‘Cause there’ll be no point after… but whatever. You know what I mean.” 

The cloaked figures were still reeling by how easily Stiles had brushed away the shadows and one of them turned around and ran away. Stiles watched them go but didn’t do anything else. He took a step back, the Hale pack following him, and said sadly, “I claim you to be false and cruel.” Stiles waved away a couple more magical attacks without blinking. “I name you all to be  _ oathbreakers _ .” The last word held an echo of many voices though Stiles had said it rather quietly. It felt like the earth was repeating the words after him.

Mama felt like something punched her in the gut as a small shockwave carried through the air of the parking lot and the bar. and she gasped out of a combination of necessity and shock as the ground sprung up underneath the three mysterious figures. Thick roots wrapped around ankles and quickly climbed up legs and around waists. The hoods fell away from the faces of the figures and Mama watched in horror the way those faces screwed up in terror and belated realization. Mama didn’t know what oathbreaker meant but apparently it had dire consequences, just as Lydia had said.

Once the roots had a firm hold, one that the magic users could not break despite their many attempts, the roots started to simultaneously squeeze and drag them to the earth. That’s when the screams started. She saw the way the roots broke one woman’s arm like it was nothing and could hear the shattering of what Mama assumed to be the pelvis of the leader. Their bodies were as fragile as crispy leaves in the fall. 

“Mercy!” the leader screamed, outstretching a hand toward Stiles’ feet. “Spark!” 

Stiles watched with general indifference but Mama thought the young man looked slightly pained. Like this was an unpleasant reality that he couldn’t avoid. And maybe it was. “You should have listened to me, Bart,” Stiles said sadly. He dropped into a squat and looked into Bartholomew’s twisted face. “No one and nothing can undo an oathbreak claim. Not even me. Not that I would if I could.” 

“Please!” cried the woman to the left. Mama thought the other woman may already have been dead. The body was bleeding out of the ears and mouth, the torso curved in on itself in a truly physics defying manner. The other two still living didn’t seem to have it so easy though. They were being pulled to pieces and dragged further into the ground. It wasn’t even dirt or mud underneath them, but the hot asphalt of the parking lot, but the roots had passed through it like nothing was there, and they were dragging the people through just as easily. It was surreal. 

“Should we have mercy, Lydia?” Stiles asked with a glance at the redhead to his side. 

Peter snarled out, “No!” 

“The screams are bothersome,” Lydia said with a distasteful curl of her mouth. 

Derek and Jackson both seemed rather nauseated by the sight and Mama watched Stiles glance between them. “You’re right. The earth will take them regardless, let us ease their passing, Lyds.” Stiles then reached out and placed a confident but soft hand on Lydia’s throat. 

Then Lydia screamed. The roots jolted in place like they were surprised but didn’t stop with their slow but steady work. The two dying and thrashing individuals went immediately slack, eyes blank and mouths open in their own silent but matching scream. 

Mama could feel Lydia’s scream scratch at her ears and her throat and her mind, but it wasn’t overwhelming like it was last time. It didn’t feel like death or paralysis, but instead like a warning. She noted the slight glow that came from Stiles’ hand on the banshee’s throat, and wondered if that sort of control was an effect of the blood bond between them or not. She didn’t know much about banshees. Or Lydia, and certainly not Stiles.

The scream was short lived but did the job. The pitiful cries and shouts from the dying magic users was now gone. All that could be heard was the crunching of bones and sinew. The crinkling of roots twisting and turning. The steady heartbeats of the Hale pack. 

Stiles dropped his hand from Lydia’s throat and ran it over his own face. “Why do people never listen to me?” he complained with a defeated tone. 

“Because you talk too much,” Derek responded. The shake in his voice was barely perceptible but still there. It made Mama smile just slightly because no matter how much Derek brooded and put off don’t-mess-with-me vibes, he was still put off by pain and suffering. Especially others’. 

Stiles scoffed and crossed his arms in offense. “I do not!” 

“Of course not, darling,” Peter replied as he stepped closer to the young man. His response made Derek, Lydia, and Jackson groan in annoyance. 

“Peter’s opinion doesn’t count!” Jackson complained. “He’s such a pushover!” 

Now it was Peter’s turn to look offended, “I am not and have never been!” 

Stiles just laughed and walked back toward the door of the bar, the door that Mama and the others had just watched that entire thing through. Her eyes skipped past the Hale pack to watch the last of the roots carry their burden deep into the earth. She wondered what would happen to them, but found she didn’t really want to know. 

Instead she gave them all a shaky smile and asked, “Anyone want a drink?” 

Stiles smiled widely and it was friendly and open in a way she didn’t expect to be aimed at her. He nodded and leaned against the bartop when he reached it, limbs loose like he hadn’t just magically destroyed three people in her parking lot. His pack was quick to follow and surround him. Jackson managed to push so he was in front of Stiles, Derek was to his side, and Peter sidled up right behind the boy. Lydia just rolled her eyes and took a seat at one of the stools next to Jackson. 

Jackson unashamedly grabbed Stiles’ hand and placed it back on his own throat, his eyes falling closed with a pleased hum. Derek was lightly holding onto the edge of Stiles’ shirt and rubbing it between his fingers, just as he used to rub the pages of his books. Peter just pushed his chest up against Stiles’ back and wound his arms around the boy, his face nuzzling into the space between neck and shoulder. 

Mama tried not to stare as she filled five glasses with her best draft and slid them across the counter to their intended. The rest of the people in the bar didn’t bother to try to seem like they were doing anything but staring. She couldn’t really blame them. 

The Hales were apparently betas to a boy. Probably not even old enough to drink, like Jackson. A young man who smiled like the sun but pulled roots out of the earth to tear apart those who would harm his pack. A boy who smelled like honeyed lightning and deep soil after a rainstorm. A kid who had blood tattooed into his skin. 

She watched them all interact and couldn’t believe the violence that Stiles had just so casually unleashed. He looked carefree and innocent surrounded by the Hales and Jackson and Lydia. But the longer she watched, the clearer it became. Stiles was just like the rest of them. He was overly watchful of everyone and everything, he just hid it better. His constant roving gaze was undermined by his flailing and constant conversation switches. His eyes held that same intensity as the others it was just harder to catch because he rarely stayed looking at something or someone long enough to see it. Stiles casually brushed up and touched the two Hale wolves, two people she’d been watching go terrifyingly feral just hours before, with a confidence and ease that translated to every atom of his being. 

The truth was that Stiles stood like he could take on the world and Mama believed he could. He talked faster and more sporadically than anyone she’d ever met, and she’d met a lot of people throughout the years, but just like Peter he rarely said anything. He twirled Lydia’s curls around his fingers and Mama noted the faint scent of death hiding underneath his lightning scent. Stiles easily coaxed smiles out of Derek and Mama had no doubt that Stiles would die to protect those smiles. 

Mama had been itching to know for months and months who the Hale alpha was and here he was sitting right in front of her. He wasn’t what she expected, he was so much more. The Hale pack fit together with him like the boy was meant to be between them all. 

Stiles didn’t look like he held power but Mama found herself often unable to look at him fully when he smiled too brightly at Peter or laughed too loudly at Jackson. It wasn’t that he was physically too bright to look at, he didn’t glow or shine, he was just too much sometimes. Like he was bleeding the world around him of its essence and becoming something more. He looked too real to look at properly, like he could crumble everything around him without notice and make it a part of himself. It was terrifying. 

Then Stiles would smile a little less brightly but just as real and Mama would relax again. Because Stiles was genuine even if he was hiding. He was kind and loving toward his pack and that spoke volumes. Mama trusted Stiles because she trusted the Hales. 

Later that night, well past when she should have been home and in bed, Stiles stopped mid conversation with Derek to turn to her. Mama stopped, frozen in place, and her heart started beating double. He smiled gently and she was glad it wasn’t one of his reality altering grins, and said, “Thank you.” She wasn’t sure what he was thanking her for exactly, but she would do it all again. She just nodded slowly because how else was she supposed to respond to this boy? 

Then Stiles’ smile turned mischievous and he leaned forward just slightly as if he was going to tell a secret and asked, “But how were they really? Hales have a tendency of finding trouble, you know. So did they treat you well?” 

Mama grinned as she glanced between Peter and Derek and Jackson. She could feel her expression gentle though as she remembered their time together. “They were good company,” she said almost reverently. She cleared her throat and added with a far more acceptable tone, “Scared the shit out of half my customers every now and then, but they were real life savers when it came down to it. Wouldn’t be here without them.” 

Stiles’ eyes darkened at the reminder of Peter’s near sacrifice and Mama forgot how to breathe for a second. She swore she could see lightning in those irises. Looking at the expression made her feel like something dark was slithering up behind her. But then Stiles grinned and said, “Glad you’re still here, Mama. It’s been good getting to know you.” He placed a strong owning hand on the back of Peter’s neck and Mama shivered as Peter just leaned into it.

“You too, Stiles,” she said, still a little shaken. “These boys here are drinking for free for life, so I should probably just add you and the beautiful Miss Martin to the tab, shouldn’t I?” 

Not that it would be a problem, Stiles had been nursing the same glass of beer all night. The boy wasn’t a drinker apparently. Lydia had only drunk two, one of which was mostly Jackson. Stiles laughed and thanked her once again and Mama just shook her head. She had them to thank after all. 

Stiles eventually herded his pack together and moved them all toward the door. An expert hand pushing at Jackson’s back and pulling on Derek’s sleeve. A gentle pat of Lydia’s bicep, directly over her tattoo, and pulling fingers interlocked with Peter’s. It was like watching a dance she didn’t fully understand. 

She took a long deep breath after they disappeared out the door and into whatever world awaited them outside. The building seemed too quiet in their absence. Many of her patrons were still there, apparently taken up by whatever spell she’d been under as well. They should all be home and asleep, instead here they sat dumbfounded in the Hale pack’s wake. 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Mama said out loud as she went back to cleaning up the bartop and emptying the glasses they left behind. She hoped they came back, maybe not tomorrow, but some day. She’d miss the Hales, but it was good to know they were in good hands. She had no doubt that Stiles would look after them all. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoy Mama and the true Hale Pack
> 
> If you're interested my thoughts on Stiles and Lydia are as follows  
> -Stiles was unstable, his power tearing him apart because he didn't know how to handle it all  
> -Lydia was going slowly insane because she couldn't control her hearing/psychic abilities (especially in a town as fucked up as Beacon Hills)   
> -Stiles and Lydia needed to leave Beacon Hills because it was going to kill them  
> -Despite them leaving Stiles is still heavily connected to the Nemeton and both feeds energy to it and receives energy and protection from it.   
> -This is Post-Nogitsune- but Stiles still has the memories from the Fox Spirit.   
> -They found the commune who told them they could bind themselves to something to help alleviate the stress on their bodies and minds  
> -Lydia and Stiles found they could stabilize each other by bonding to each other's souls- unheard of and untested, but they're super powerful and like geniuses so they figured it out.   
> -Lydia's darker (death) energies balance out Stiles' lighter (life from the Nemeton) energies   
> -Jackson was able to visit Lydia, but not Stiles, because Stiles was the one who had to undergo the most experimentation and stabilizing because he's the more powerful of the two, and thus was holding most of the strain of the bond. So Jackson has seen Lydia for the last fifteen months, like roughly once a week, like prison, but not Stiles.   
> -The commune is on like a different plane sort of. So it's very near the bar, just unseen and unreachable, which is how they could all get to the parking lot so fast and what not. 
> 
> And yeah. That's mostly my thoughts. I might (MIGHT) do a follow up from like Stiles or Lydia's POV (maybe someone from the commune to continue the outside pov thing I've got going here?) about their time with the binding, but idk. Maybe something more Peter and Stiles related for after this, like they come back to visit Mama. Idk. This was a long project so I don't know if I'll be up to anything related to it afterwards. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and I sincerely hope you enjoyed it. I enjoyed writing it. I love me some strong Stiles


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